Microstory 52: Dream School

Centuries ago, there arose a group of people with extraordinary abilities. They were the remnants of developments and human experiments from millennia before. The technology that ultimately made them possible already existed, but what these people and their abilities brought the world was a new perspective. Just because a particular technology is possible, doesn’t mean there is anyone around creative enough to come up with the full range of its uses. One of these anomalies was a man named Mandy Alto. He could enter other people’s dreams, and share experiences across a network of sleepers. While some considered the possibility of using this for espionage and mind control, a contemporary of his named Valary had a different idea. She realized that Mandy could create 100% lucid dreams, meaning that the dreamers were able to recall what had happened to them upon waking, sometimes even to a higher degree than with real life events. As a visionary, Valary founded a new league of education. During their five hours of sleep, students would study in a world of endless possibilities and resources. This left time to do whatever they wanted during their waking hours. The practice continues today. In fact, learning while awake is becoming exceedingly rare.

Microstory 51: Range

I woke up yesterday afternoon with a single thought. I had to go somewhere I hadn’t been before to hike and take photos. I’ve been working on a phone app, and one thing I’m planning on having is a photo of the day. I already had a couple hundred just from living life that fit the bill. I try to use ones that don’t show people’s faces. The legal issues that could potentially arise just aren’t worth it. I like to walk to get my exercise, so this was killing two birds with one rifle. I found some a trail that looked good, and drove out there. I got lost once, but it was easy to get back on track. As I was walking along the lake, listening to music, I could hear loud snapping sounds. I pulled up the map again and discovered that there was a shooting range nearby. I decided to keep going and take a look. The man at the booth agreed to let me watch, and even gave me some earplugs. There weren’t very many people there, so it wasn’t that exciting. As I was sitting there, I realized that I recognized the place. It’s where I first learned to shoot while I was in scouts. I joined the troop just in time. At some point after that trip, the leaders decided to keep guns out of the hands of minors, and we never did it again. There was talk of paintball, but even that scared the helicopter parents. After a few minutes of watching a father teach his son, as well as a woman I believe they had just met, they turned on the cease-fire lights. While they went down range to check out their work, I went up the hill to the side so that I could get a good picture from the other direction. What I discovered was that there was a second section on the other side of the hill, and they were not in cease-fire mode. They were able to get the bullet out of my shoulder, though, so everything’s fine.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: March 28, 2021

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Mateo was devastated to find out that he had killed his father. His mother assured him that he was “an old man” and it had absolutely nothing to do with the time jump. This was, of course, completely ridiculous. Old or not, Randall had died at the exact moment that he had tried to travel through time by holding Mateo close. Leona pointing out that he didn’t die until getting to the hospital, but that did nothing to dissuade Mateo from his position on the matter. He had ruined Kyle’s life during the first jump, and he couldn’t be sure as of yet that retaining his friendship with Leona wasn’t detrimental to her happiness. And now this. He needed to get away from those he loved. Things would only get worse. The leaving part wasn’t what was hurting them. It was the constant returning. It was time to rip off the band aid. As long as they didn’t know where he was come midnight, they would never be able to find him.

In the meantime, Carol gave him a suit so that they could visit his father’s grave. They were going to hold a belated private ceremony for Mateo’s benefit. They had asked the priest to carve out some time so that he could say some prayers. It was, afterall, the anniversary of the death, so it was not such an unusual request. After that was finished, they dismissed him so that they could speak of him alone. Mateo said a few words, “Randall was my father for my whole life, even though we’re not related. He taught me everything I needed to know to be a man. He taught me to be strong and careful, wise and spontaneous, interesting and deserving. He had always managed to take time out for me, and he was my best friend.

“When this...thing happened to me, he kept a cool head. Sure, I wasn’t around for the first year scare, but when I came back, it was almost like I had never left. I fell right back into place, and all thanks to his understanding attitude. We were spending a lot of time trying to figure things out, but not all of it. We made sure to get into our obligatory political discussions, and we were planning on fishing Sherwood Lake next week in 2026. Say what you will, but I will never forgive myself for depriving the world of more Randall Gelen.” The other two didn’t argue with him anymore about it. They walked away to give him some time to pray alone.

After the service, they went out for ice cream. There was a small shop downtown where Randall used to take him all the time. It closed down a few years before Mateo’s disappearance, but they kept going there anyway. They would buy cones from the chain that put their beloved shop out of business, and eat on a bench in front of where it used to be. It had turned into a toy store, but was now an electronics store. He and Carol spent the rest of the time telling Leona stories about Randall. To their surprise, she had a few stories of her own; of times they had spent together, apart from the other two. Apparently, she had thought of him as a second father.

Mateo hadn’t slept in a while, so they went back home and let him have a nap. But he didn’t go to sleep. Instead, he packed. He thought about what kind of essentials his aunt Daria would have. He knew that she always had water and layers of clothing. She also probably kept a supply of toiletries. A pocket knife, flashlight, headache relief medicine, and as many small bills as he could get his hands on were also on his list. He wrote a short note to his mother and Leona, apologizing to them, and claiming that he was opting for a life of anonymity in New York City. Lastly, he stole his mother’s credit card.

After sneaking out of the house, he knocked on Frida’s door and asked to borrow 200 bucks. She agreed, not having any clue that he would never be able to pay her back. It wasn’t his proudest moment, but it had to be done. After being declared missing, he lost his bank account. They couldn’t set up a new one because he wasn’t a real person anymore. The legal obstacles they would have to deal with would be just too much. Simply renewing his card or verifying information throughout the year would be functionally impossible. He was stuck with cash, which was a problem. Time was running out for paper money. Anyone who had chosen not to set up their fingerprint identity with the government still had a smartphone to pay for things. Paying with cold hard cash was still just as easy as before, but it made you stand out, and people were suspicious of you for it.

He walked all the way to Kyle’s condo and asked for a ride to the train station. Kyle was more than happy to help out, having gotten far beyond the point of recovery. He was the happiest Mateo had ever seen him. He and his husband were in the process of adopting a child. “It’s nice to see you, man! It’s been forever, so where the hell are you going now?”

“I have some business in Los Angeles,” Mateo lied. Once they arrived at the train station, he paid for a ticket to Chicago. He then went back to the car and handed Kyle the credit card. “Please get this back to my mother, whenever you get a chance. And apologize to her for me.”

“She doesn’t know you’re going?”

“Goodbye, my old friend,” Mateo said. Then he walked away. He turned back and watched as Kyle drove off. Once he was out of sight, he walked down the road and stuck out his thumb. He was only trying to go about 160 miles, but it took him the entire day to hitchhike. There were a few moments in between drivers that he was pretty sure he would be in the middle of nowhere for the jump, but several hours later, he was finally at the Lincoln, Nebraska train station. He found a corner to hide in. Midnight came and flung him one year into the future. At that moment, he raced around and purchased a ticket to Salt Lake City, Utah. It was the last place anyone would look for him.

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Mr. Muxley Meets Mediocrity: Part I

The magnificent mothership landed gently on the large mound of dirt in the middle of Cougar Mountain Regional Wildland Park. It tipped over and rested its edge on the grass below. The driver decided to leave it be. Or perhaps he didn’t really notice since the ship had some sort of self-contained gravity field. The creature slid the door open manually and fell out. The man and his mastiff who had been watching the whole thing while sipping a cool cup of milk and eating mulberries made no move towards it, but continued munching. The creature stood back up and sighed. It brushed itself off and marched directly to the man and his mastiff. They both stood and the man smiled as the creature said one word, “Muxley.”

“Good morning, Mr. Muxley. My name is Mervin Maddox and this is my mastiff, Mercy. The dog made a small bark that sounded more inquisitive than malicious.

“Muxley!” it repeated, slightly maddened.

“Okay, I get it. Me Mervin, you Muxley. Whatever. Do you want some mulberries?” The alien did not respond now that he realized his voice recognition systems had not been completely activated.

The other, much younger man who had been camping a quarter mile away now pushed his way through the Monterey Cypress trees and made his way to the group. “Good day, mates. I’m Monty Montgomery. Would you like some M&M’s?” The other two merely stared at him. “Okay…then how about a Mars bar? Marshmallow? Junior Mint? Milk Dud?”

The alien motioned for them to follow him and up they went into the ship. There was nothing in it but a small console in the middle and what looked like a fat guitar leaning against it. He picked it up immediately and began to pluck the strings with a plectrum. Once he started, flashes of lights appeared on the wall. He began slowly, then sped up, and then slowed down again. The music was beautiful. It made the guests feel at ease. Even Mercy the dog, who had managed to struggle up the mound and into the doorway, swayed back and forth in dance. After it was over, a drawer slid out of the wall.

The alien walked to it and took out two devices. The first looked like a miter attached to drumsticks with wires. The other resembled a large retro mobile phone. He put on the miter and placed the edges of the drumsticks to Mervin’s temples. Nothing happened for a few seconds and then Mervin understood completely. Without speaking, the alien had somehow conveyed what he wanted. Mervin took the other device and spoke into it, “A, B, C, D…” and continued until he had finished the alphabet. He pushed a button on it and spoke again, “Milky Way, Earth, human, land, multiple, North America, United States, English, Oregon, Bellevue, male, Mervin, forty-two, camping, fire, motorboat, Cellar Door.” He was done. Monty stared at him like he was crazy. The alien took back the recording device and played it back in his own ear. After repeating this step several times he tossed it back in the drawer with its companion and picked up the instrument again; playing one chord so as to close the drawer. The wall appeared to have never been broken.

The alien let out a massive sigh and finally spoke comfortably, this time in English. “I have come as a scout in order to make contact with your people. We discovered this planet yesterday and we are anxious to meet you all. You must take me to various locations so that I may better understand your culture.”

The two men looked at each other then looked at the dog for help. Unfortunately, the alien had picked the two least qualified men as his guides. Neither of them had been outside of King County. “We don’t really know where to go.” The alien turned his gaze to the floor, not quite knowing what to say. Mervin continued. “Look, Mr. Muxley, we—”

“My name isn’t Mr. Muxley.”

“Then what does Muxley mean?” Monty asked.

“It doesn’t mean anything.” He was becoming more impatient. “That must just be what I sounded like since you don’t understand our language.”

Monty realized that he had asked the wrong question. “Well, what is your name?”

The alien spoke out in a mass of misinterpreted and possibly mythical monosyllables that made the men’s minds feel like maimed monkeys meandering their way through a maze of monsters and mutants.

“Okay…well we’ll just maintain calling you Mr. Muxley.”

The alien did not seem pleased with this but obviously considered it less important than the task at hand. “Take me somewhere.”

“Well, it’s almost time for breakfast,” Monty said. “We could head down to McDonald’s and get some pancakes or something.”

“No,” Mervin protested,” we shouldn’t give him fast food. Let’s go to somewhere more sophisticated.”

Monty thought for a second and tried again, “okay then, how about Mooby’s?”

“That’s just as bad!” yelled Mervin. “The best place to get breakfast around here is Miss Milly’s Mess Hall at the Mill.”

“Oh, yes!” Monty’s eyes lit up. “They have the best muffins!”

“I agree,” Mervin agreed. “But their specialty is Melons. The owner’s daughter-in-law, Miss Minor, says they get their recipes from some restaurant in France.” The men grabbed their belongings while Mr. Muxley put a masking charm on his ship. They piled into the small moss green truck and drove off towards the ghost town of Monohon. Click here for the next installment...

Microstory 50: How Different People Count

This is not exactly a microstory, but it isn’t the first time I’ve used a different format, and it probably won’t be the last. I’ve been really busy this week, and I just can’t be spontaneously creative right now. I wrote this several years ago for no reason at all. It shows how different kinds of people look at counting.

• Mathematicians: 0, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13
• Other Mathematicians: 1, 2, 3, 5, 7, 11, 13, 17, 19, 23, 29
• Cheerleaders: 5, 6, 7, 8, 1, 2, 3, 4
• Computers: 0, 1, 0, 1
• Rockers: 1. 2. 1, 2, 3, 4!
• Romans: I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII, VIII, IX, X, XI
• The Offspring: Uno, dos, tres, cuatro, cinco, cinco, seis
• Astronauts: 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1
• LOST Fans: 4, 8, 15, 16, 23, 42
• Nihilists: WHO CARES!
• Nietzsche: 1; me.
• Camera Operators: 5, 4, 3, (2), (1)
• Morons: What?

Microstory 49*: Excerpt from Crusade

“All right, basic plex mechanics; the astral planes are full of matter. They’re full of matter because they exist in compressed space. Now, the lower the dimension, the more compressed it is, which is why traveling across a single planet is exponentially faster than flying between stars. Why is it faster, you ask? Why is more compression better? Well, you see, it all has to do with gravity. Gravity holds us in place. It attaches things together. People to planets, planets to suns, suns together, moving around a galaxy. It’s all about attraction. But thanks to a little human ingenuity, we have ways of subverting that gravity. But we can’t subvert it if it’s not there, or there’s not enough, which is why faster-than-light travel within empty space is all but impossible. These compressed astral planes, however, change all that.

“Once an astral collimator transmits a vessel into a tunnel inside astral space, we use our gravity manipulators to counteract the effects of the gravity from the proverbial astral walls and slide right through. The better we are able to manipulate the gravity, the faster we go. But it’s not instant. It’s never instant. Enter, astral snappers. Though still not instant, they get you about as close as you’re ever gonna get. They form a wedge of astral space, thereby increasing their gravitational pull which we then reverse from one direction and harness from the other to use to our advantage. In other words, the snappers temporarily close the tunnel behind us and in front of us, giving us more to work with. What does this mean, you ask? It means we go faster; much faster. Again, not instant, but pretty damn close. Instead of hours, we could potentially reach another planet in a matter of minutes.

“This, my friends, is what solidifies our status as the most powerful group of people in the galaxy.”

Microstory 48: Halo

The Halo is a multipurpose device used by all adults in the Core. It is a ring of Amber color, though it can be shaped into other forms by means of stretching. It is typically worn, in ring form, a few inches above the head of its user. It maintains its position via the user’s own telekinetic field but, unlike most objects, does not require constant concentration in order to stay aloft.

The Halo includes many functions, primarily as a computer and as a storage locker. Most people wear bionic conduits that are linked up to the system-wide data network that are fully capable of processing as much information as an external computer. There are times, however, such as when watching an Earthan television show, that a single screen that can be viewed by many people at once is desirable.

Perhaps a Halo’s most used component, though, is the cache. It creates and bridges a connection between the user’s current dimension and a portable and artificial dimension. Because it is artificial, objects inside do not suffer from the radiation of most simplex dimensions. However, Haloes are specifically designed to not allow the storage of still-living organic entities. Any attempt to tamper with a Halo and allow this function is illegal. These laws and safety guards are to prevent people from being able to trap each other in a Halo.

Obviously, it is illegal to use Haloes in the presence of veiled citizens. In one incident in Earth year 1709, a criminal of a mischievous temperament, referred to as a Loki (also based on Earthan mythology, specifically Norse) snuck onto Earth. Having no real knowledge of the planet’s geography, he found himself in a remote area of Romania. Wearing blue and white robes, he walked around a small village, Halo hovering above his head. The villagers worshipped him as the second coming of Jesus Christ, and lavished him with gifts. He was eventually reprimanded by Martian police. They were able to convince the villagers that the man was actually a false prophet who was using witchcraft to mimic the properties of the Lord, and also that they were servants of God, particularly vessels of angels, come to cast out the demon. The villagers wanted to burn him at the stake, however the police were able to remove him with no trouble. Before leaving, the police proclaimed that the village was thereby protected from other such witchcraft and that no witch would be able cross its borders. This was to prevent further witch trials, as were common in those days.Though the village was from then on left to its own devices (as most Earthans are), not one more crime was committed there for the nearly hundred years it survived before its population diminished to nothingness and it vanished into obscurity.

Microstory 47: The Advancement of Nick Fisherman

A few weeks ago, I began writing a weekly flash fiction series called The Advancement of Mateo Matic. You can find it somewhere around here (*looks around*). The official description is that “a man is only able to live for one day every year. Every 24 hours, he is sent forward in time exactly 365 days.” I began writing this story as a sort of primer for what’s going to happen next. The characters and their stories are fictional, but the premise is 100% true. I belong to a long line of people who are affectionately known as Salmon. We all have our own schedule, but all Salmon are passing through time...incorrectly. Like my protagonist, I am destined to disappear at the strike of midnight following my 28th birthday. That’s today. I will return to the timestream in exactly one year. Fear not, my loyal readers. I have written hundreds of short fiction stories, and they are already loaded, timed to be posted on their proper date. I urge you to continue to visit my website. It’s awesome. I will see you all again on April 29th, 2016. Please make sure my search history has been wiped while I’m gone. Thanks.